Devils Snare
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: Luna put both of her hands on the sides of his face, and leant down to kiss him. Her tongue swept into his mouth, dancing with his, leaving a strange sensation on his lips. Neville/Luna - M for mild sexual content.


oOo

"Next week we'll be learning about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna was saying to her Care of Magical Creatures class. "So, please remember to bring your notebooks this time, as it will be a very intermediate lesson. Mr Malfoy, you will that means you as well." Luna turned her silvery gaze and dreamy smile to Scorpius Malfoy, who instantly stopped talking to a fellow Slytherin, and looked down at his shuffling feet sheepishly as the bell rung shrilly from the castle, ringing across the grounds. The greenhouses were rattling with the sound, Luna could see from her point in front of the Forbidden Forest. She swished her wand in one fluid movement, and thirty rolls of parchment flew towards her. She directed them towards an empty box at her feet, and kicked it towards Hagrids hut. Even though he was long since retired, he still enjoyed the importance of marking students' work, and Luna didn't complain. "Have a good evening, now," she dismissed, as her students began to mill back up to Hogwarts, chatting animatedly.

She gave a long, breathy sigh. As it was into winter now, the sun was setting early; in the late hours of the afternoon. Luna squinted at the silhouette marked inside the first greenhouse, where the last few rays of sun were gleaming over the glass. Setting off at a quick pace, she made her way towards her oldest and dearest friend.

"Professor Lovegood?" Neville lifted his head from inspecting a particularly evil twist of Devils Snare, as Luna closed the door behind her. She smiled.

"Neville, you're one of my best friends, why won't you call me Luna anymore?"

"Sorry, Luna," he replied with a long yawn, scratching the back of his dark head. "I forget when I'm having to speak to dozens of first years every day, and they want to know how 'Professors Longbottom and Lovegood helped the famous Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord'," he shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Devils Snare?" Luna pointed at the plant questioningly. Neville nodded, and then shrugged again.

"I'm just wasting time, I guess. The headmistress asked me to do a demonstration of a 'Loyal Gryffindor' to the first years, again."

"You were doing a demonstration?"

"Like a talk. You know, Snake Beheading and all that stuff."

"Ah."

There was a pause, in which Luna's eyes continued to gaze beseechingly into Neville, looking him up and down, as if considering something. Neville turned away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What's the problem, Neville?" She asked him, slowly.

"Hm? I don't have a problem. I'm fine." He accidentally put his hand in the Devils Snare, only just wrenching it back in time.

"No, you're not, there's something..."

Neville looked her fully in the eye, and instantly regretted it. He couldn't break his stare. She had him trapped.

"What are you afraid of?" Luna's tongue slid across her bottom lip, her eyes unblinking. "Why are you scared?"

"I'm not-I'm-I'm..." Neville drew breath, wondering why he was getting so hot and bothered all of a sudden. "Do you mean the demonstration thing? It's not that I'm _scared _of that, it's just awfully laborious" - he paused as Luna removed the large, glass clip that was holding her masses of hair in an untidy pile on top of her head. It fell down to her waist in a shimmering, blonde waterfall - "because. Because..." he gave up with a long sigh. Luna had taken off her cloak and was proceeding to undo the top few buttons of her shirt, milky white skin peering ominously at Neville.

"Neville, you walk around with that big thick robe on, right down to your toes. Surely you're _boiling_, especially in this greenhouse all the time..." She took a step closer, tugging playfully on the neck of his robe. "Why don't you just...take it off?"

"I-Luna-I beg your _pardon_," he stumbled back, mortified, and fell into a nearby table, littered with many plant pots of a grotesque smelling blue substance. Luna held out her hand to help him up.

"Are you nervous about something?" Luna asked, not letting go of his hand, which trembled in her grip. "Embarrassed about something? Self-unaware...?" She tightened her fingers around his.

Unable to lie to her wide, intent eyes, Neville nodded. Luna's smile widened considerably - but not maliciously. "I _knew _it," she said softly. "Why, though, Neville? You are well respected as a close friend to the Golden Trio! You babysat for Harry's babies! People love you."

"I know...well...I think...It's not that...it's just..." he gestured to his roundish face and stomach, flushing crimson.

"You're not fat, Neville," Luna said sternly.

"Yes I am," Neville replied miserably. "Fat, ugly...I'm a laughing stock to most of these kids, Luna."

"They're just children, Neville."

"I see them giggling...laughing and talking behind my back…and...and...it _hurts_, Luna!" He clenched his fists, bottom lip trembling.

"Neville..." Luna stepped closer, so that her body was pressing against his. He stared down at her, swallowing loudly. She placed her left hand on his chest, smoothing out a loose thread on his robes. He shuddered violently, suddenly finding a blank spot somewhere behind Luna's head very interesting. "I'm self-conscious too, at times."

Trying to keep a (centimetre length) distance between them, Neville looked back down at her, seemingly shocked. Luna had never appeared self-conscious in all the time he had known her. She flounced around the castle on Saturdays in her carpet slippers, spouting nonsense that she would resolutely insist was utterly true. No-one that ridiculous could ever, ever have an ounce of modesty about them. "You do?"

She gazed unblinkingly into his eyes. "When I'm around..." she smiled briefly, shaking her head and looking abashed, "your wife."

As his eyebrows furrowed together momentarily, images flooded his head, of Professor Abott, the Arithmancy teacher and newly appointed Head of Hufflepuff, with her long blonde hair, tied in low pigtail. Marrying Hannah had been a last resort; he was tired of his Grandmother (who was determined to outlive everyone) whacking him over the head with her handbag and telling him to get hooked up. Hannah and Neville didn't really have a lot in common. Predictably, they'd never had any children. Neville was far too shy to take off his clothes in front of Hannah, and any sexual interaction between them had begun in complete darkness, and ended in embarrassing disaster. Hannah wasn't the image of beauty and perfection herself, which was what had initially drawn Neville towards her. Pushing Hannah out of his mind, he remembered what Luna had said, as he noticed his hand still clasped in hers. She was pushing the gold band on his ring finger up the first joint on his knuckle tauntingly. "I don't quite understand what you're saying..." Neville felt temporarily proud of managing to string together a sentence, in such a compromising position, without stammering once.

"Of course you don't," before Neville could question her again, she had pressed her mouth against his, and pulled his hand to her waist. Almost instantly, she was pulling the rest of the buttons on her shirt open, revealing the flat pane of her stomach. Neville pulled his mouth away, and averted his eyes automatically, though the hand gripping her waist didn't move.

"What are you doing, Luna? I'm m-married! You're married! You have childre..." he whined, his words fading into nothing as Luna's mouth attacked his neck.

"Think of it as...a _lesson_," she said quickly.

"A lesson," Neville repeated weakly.

"Yes, a lesson. I'm teaching you to be more _self-confident_."

There was a long pause.

"Does it mean I can call you Professor Lovegood?" Neville asked quietly, his ears turning pink. If it wasn't for the serious look upon his face, Luna would have laughed out loud. Instead, she hooked an arm around his neck, and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, pushing him back, and back, until the inside of his knees made contact with a table. Luna tugged at the top button of Neville's robe, and accidentally tore it halfway down his chest, much to his dislike. He flinched away from Luna suddenly, his hand pressing together the ruined pieces of fabric, as if the air would scorch his exposed skin. She looked upon Neville, sadly.

"Come on, Neville." She inched closer again. "Let me show you you're beautiful..." her hands rested on his. He tightened his grip on his robe, looking fearful.

"You first..." he murmured softly, almost inaudibly.

With a shrug, she took of the rest of her shirt, dropping it on the floor at her feet. She kicked off the wooden clog shoes she wore outdoors, and slid out of her long, flared skirt, leaving her clad in nothing but her underwear and thigh-length, rainbow striped stockings. She smiled at Neville hopefully, whilst he gazed at her body, complexion milky-white in the moonlight, which had appeared as suddenly as the sun had set.

This had to be some kind of weird, weird dream. Luna Lovegood was purely amazing, even after carrying twins; she was still taut - her stomach and thighs unstretched. Her hips flared out from her waist neatly, her long hair gleaming in an almost silver light, her full pink lips pouting slightly.

Neville did not deserve this. Rolf Scamander, Luna's husband, was tall and well-built from Quidditch playing. He was blue-eyed and muscly, everything someone as beautiful as Luna deserved. They were meant to be married. Luna and Rolf. Rolf and Luna. This had to be a dream, it had to be...

If it was a dream, it didn't matter if it took his clothes off then, right?

"L-Luna..." he said breathlessly. She slowly pulled his hands away from his chest, letting the material fall open. She placed his hands on her hips, across her stomach, her thighs, her breasts, the small of her back, her neck, her hair. Carefully, she let go of those hands, allowing them to roam alone. While Neville was mesmerised, she took the liberty of ripping his robe open fully, and leaving him stood in his own underwear and shoes and socks, completely unprepared. He froze and blushed.

"Relax," she whispered soothingly, as Neville kicked off his socks and shoes. With one solid push, Luna had Neville sprawled on his back, looking vulnerable, on the desk, and before he could make any sudden escape, she was straddling his groin area expertly. The blush on Neville's face intensified.

Luna put both of her hands on the sides of his face, and leant down to kiss him. Her tongue swept into his mouth, dancing with his, leaving a strange sensation on his lips. Her hand fell to his chest, then another to the soft, slightly flabby expanse of his stomach. She straightened her back, shook her hair over her shoulder, and reached behind her back. Neville's eyes were popping, as he heard the tell-tale snapping sound of her bra unclasping...

* * *

Sunlight in his eyes woke Neville from his slumber. He shut them quickly, desperate for a few more minutes of precious sleep. His heart lurched sadly.

It had been a dream, after all. Opening his eyes again, he focused on the ceiling of his bedro...

…On the ceiling of the transparent glass of the greenhouse. The bright, ivory white of wintery sun was beaming through.

His back ached horribly. Giving a small wriggle, he realised that the uncomfortable wooden surface he was lying on wasn't the soft, squishy mattress of his usual sleeping quarters. Somewhat confused and slightly hopeful, Neville lay still for another few minutes, staring out at the sky.

He could tell he was completely naked. His hair was rumpled and there was a pain in his neck, product of sleeping without a pillow of some sort of head support. There was a wonderfully warm weight, sprawled across his body.

Looking down, his stomach gave a joyful soar as he noticed Luna Lovegoods blonde head under his chin. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly, her thumb in her mouth. She still had her stripy socks on, even if her undergarments were strewn across the greenhouse.

Her lacy pants were entangled in the furiously twisting Devils Snare, but for now he could laugh it off. For now, he could wrap his arms around the woman who had just filled some vast, gaping hole inside of him, and smile serenely at the on looking sun.

oOo


End file.
